


[C] Three Days Remaining

by OneofWebs



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Conversations, Come Inflation, Eating, Falling In Love, Flirting, Getting Together, Inflation, Injury, M/M, Marathon Sex, Oral Sex, Pon Farr, Possessive Behavior, Recovery, Riding, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22162807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofWebs/pseuds/OneofWebs
Summary: Spock was under the impression that he was never supposed to go through pon farr, but having found out that previous predictions were incorrect, he's decided to take some steps. There's no one he would rather ask to go through it with him than Kirk, who's been by his side for years as more than just a friend. Asking was the first step, and the second step proved harder: waiting.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 16
Kudos: 514





	[C] Three Days Remaining

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eternally_Damned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternally_Damned/gifts).



> I had never really thought I'd ever write a star trek fic, but here we are. Very exciting. I haven't seen star trek since i was a kid, but it was more fun than I though it'd be to hit it back up and learn a bunch of new stuff. 
> 
> First time star trek fic ever, but I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless. Any comments/kudos are very welcome! Thank you <3

He knew what he’d done. It had been stupid, reckless, and dangerous. More than that, it had been life threatening, and that was where the trail went dark. In his state, there wasn’t anything to do but go back over the time in his head, where it’d gone wrong, where it’d gone right. There were things that he could have done to change the outcome, but it was all in hindsight. In the moment, things hadn’t gone so slowly, and his footsteps hadn’t been so carefully planned. Maybe there had been no other way for it to go. It had gone the way it went because that had been the only outcome possible.

With that in mind, for what conscious thought Kirk had in what state he was in, he was happy for the way that it happened. In the end, he’d accomplished his mission at only the cost of his own safety. It wasn’t something he hadn’t done before, to the point where it was probably shocking that he was even alive, at this point. Somehow, he always came out on top. Somehow, the family was safe. Maybe he wasn’t entirely safe, but he was certainly alive. Somewhere, he was still alive.

It had been exactly three days before Kirk knew he was alive in any other capacity than dreaming about what he’d done and all the ways he couldn’t have done it better. It was when he finally woke up, and all of that rushing soreness came right awake with him. He had walked out of that alive, but he hadn’t walked out unscathed. For three days, he’d been lying comatose while members of the medical staff worked tirelessly to save him, to patch his wounds.

The first time he opened his eyes, in a pale haze of pain and confusion, he knew that he had to still be dreaming. Just across the way of his vision, past the rows of empty beds and just over the shoulder of someone he couldn’t quite recognize, in the haze, there  _ was _ someone he recognized. Seeing Spock there, leaning against the wall with no idle glance towards him, was all the proof that Kirk needed that he might have been closer to death than he thought. There was no way that Spock would be there, looking at him like that— _ nervous _ , concerned. Whatever the word would be.

Only, Spock didn’t seem to go away. Not even when Kirk closed his eyes. It wasn’t uncommon, exactly, for Spock to play a part in Kirk’s dreams. They just usually weren’t so vivid; Kirk knew that Spock wasn’t always a fan of the way he threw himself into situations that had better, well thought out solutions, and he didn’t need those lectures spilling over into this comatose state. It was always strange, these sort of carryover dreams. They were ones that were better left forgotten, because they were dreams, purely, and nothing more.

It wasn’t the first time Spock had drifted into his dreams, and it wouldn’t be the last if fate was as cruel as she tended to seem. This one was a particular sort of dream, though. Something about seeing him there, even if it was an image his own mind had concocted, had Kirk feeling like there was more care in a Vulcan’s words than maybe one would ever admit. Even if that care would come out in the way of lectures, as the dream continued, they were still done with that sort of look in Spock’s eyes that said one thing.

_ Don’t put yourself in danger. For me. _

That was the sort of dream that Kirk could lose himself in, and that was a dangerous sort. He had to focus on bettering himself, in the real world, so that he could wake up from this and go back to the dreadful, dreary world of reality where the only reason Spock didn’t want him risking his life was because he was the Captain—not because they were anything. They wouldn’t ever  _ be  _ anything, and Spock certainly hadn’t been standing against the wall, even if Kirk had been sure he was awake when he saw that.

His doubt about it wavered on the second time he woke in his daze. He’d all but convinced himself that he hadn’t actually seen Spock there, but on the second wake of his eyes, Spock was there. Still. Perhaps he was just passing by on a routine walk through the ship—someone had to keep things to task when Kirk went off to do something heroic and obscene, after all. There wasn’t anyone better suited for the job, being first officer, but that didn’t mean that Kirk wasn’t going to feel something about it. He was half out of consciousness; he couldn’t control his thoughts.

He was  _ really _ beginning to doubt himself by the third time his eyes opened, but there wasn’t time to fret about it with the fretting that he’d caused. It was, in truth, the first time Kirk had actually been fully awake. He’d opened his eyes three times, and on that third time, they stayed open long enough for someone to notice, and longer still for it to really count as recovery. That sparked a whole fiasco of its own, and there wasn’t really time to let it sink in that it wasn’t a dream—Spock  _ was _ standing there against the wall, and he hadn’t really moved since the first time Kirk thought he imagined him.

Spock didn’t join the rush to ensure that Kirk was truly recovering and that all adjustments were made for his newly awakened state, but he didn’t leave, either. There had been more than one occasion when Kirk glanced through the shoulders of medical staff and  _ still _ saw Spock standing there. Maybe their eyes had met, maybe they hadn’t. It wasn’t something to focus on, for the moment. Not until the rush had died down and Kirk was stable enough to be left alone.

He was fine. Really.

Fine enough that, when everyone finally deemed him fine enough to leave him alone, he didn’t immediately try to go back to sleep. Even if he’d been tired at that point, disregarding the days that he’d been asleep and dreaming, he wouldn’t have gone back to sleep for the world. Something was happening that had never happened before, not in the way that it did. Spock had been there for the important things, like after the defeat of Khan—where an extenuating circumstance had landed Kirk bedridden for a considerable amount of time. When it was his own recklessness that landed him here, however, and certainly things of less mortal concern, he tended to trust that the medical staff would mind him.

“You nearly died,” Spock said, as if that was something Kirk hadn’t already been well aware of.

“I didn’t, though. That’s the important part.”

Spock frowned.

“The important part would be finding a way to stop you from acting this way. It’s dangerous, and you jeopardize yourself and the crew, as well.”

“Figure I’d leave them in good hands, if something were to happen,” Kirk scoffed, but he was smiling. So far, nothing had ever happened that he hadn’t recovered from.

“It’s still best that you don’t actively seek these situations out. I can’t tell if it’s something of a thrill or pride, for you, but that doesn’t change the facts.”

“And what are those facts?” Kirk asked, as if he didn’t already know.

“You’re a menace, and you’re putting your life at risk is not something that can continue. Therefore, I have a solution.”

“A solution?” Kirk didn’t seem convinced, but there was just the slightest bit of hesitation in the reply that had him listening.

“I’ve been thinking about it for longer than I should care to admit,” Spock admitted. “I even had to contact my father regarding my concerns over your health and our current friendship. We also discussed a suitable solution, as matters related to interpersonal relationships and intimacy are items that I am, currently, unfamiliar with. I’ve come to the conclusion that it would be best if we were to become partners—”

“Wait, partners? What do you mean you called your dad—?”

“—There are several benefits to entering a relationship, if you’d allow me to explain. First, it would appear that humans tend to have more care for their own safety when there is someone else that they must adhere to. Second, it would allow me to protect you to the fullest of my capabilities.” That was something that had happened from time to time. Kirk owed his life to it. “Third, I believe I would be best suited to be your partner, of which I am willing to explain in further detail.”

Kirk was still reeling. He didn’t have the words to respond—did Spock even know what he was saying?

“I believe, of the many people you have met, that I know you best. We have worked closely for many years, which has allowed me to understand much of what you do. We work efficiently, and I would—”

“Wait, stop, stop,” Kirk held up his hand. “ _ Partner _ . What do you even mean by this?”

Spock made a breathy noise, somewhere between amused and proud. “I believe humans refer to it as  _ dating _ .”

Kirk’s face went red, then, and he covered his mouth with his hand. He wasn’t trying to pretend like this wasn’t something he wanted or had been thinking about; he just didn’t ever think that it would be something Spock would have thought about, too.

“You’ve made that same face many times before, so I would believe it would only be a logical decision to say  _ yes _ .”

“What if I wanted to play hard to get?” Kirk asked; he was still processing the whole thing. He wasn’t even sure that this was real and not just another fever, comatose dream. The only way he knew how to deflect was poorly timed jokes, so there it was. A poorly timed joke.

“It would seem to me that delaying gratification would make a poor decision, as it is sitting right beside you.”

_ That _ sounded like an entirely different proposal altogether, which Kirk didn’t want to think too long about. He had higher priorities, like recovering and whatever mission they’d be sent out for next. Thinking about whatever sort of proposition  _ that _ was would just be a distraction. One that Kirk didn’t need. Still, he’d ponder about it. He’d ponder about it a lot.

“And you told your  _ dad _ this?” Kirk finally managed, in lieu of his very distracting thoughts.

He could have sworn Spock even laughed.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Captain, now that this has been settled—”

“It’s Jim,” Kirk replied.

As Spock stood, he nodded. “As you say, then. I’ll return to visit you this evening, Jim.”

Kirk wasn’t quite sure what had happened or how it had happened, only that it had, in fact, happened. If questioning it would undo it, then he wouldn’t question for as long as it would be. It was everything he’d wanted and nothing he expected, and that was just alright. More reason to recover quickly, then, to see exactly what would lie on the other side of this  _ partner _ thing.

After four years, Kirk had learned exactly what was on the other side of  _ partners _ . It was nothing that they hadn’t been before. That was discounting the times behind closed doors, of course, but Kirk wasn’t thinking about that at this exact moment. What he was thinking about was how they’d agreed to meet for lunch, and that was apparently the only thing that they were doing. They were sitting across from each other at a table, eating, but they were enjoying entirely separate meals, separately.

Aside from the fact that they did nearly everything together, it was like they weren’t even together at all, once they’d left the safety of closed quarters. At its core, Kirk understood.  _ Feeling _ things wasn’t exactly in Spock’s repertoire of skills, even if he was clearly making somewhat of an effort. It would be a learning process, and Kirk was okay with that. It was hard to blame himself for wanting more, now that he had what he’d wanted.  _ More _ wasn’t supposed to be such a bad thing, not when it was more  _ partner _ things.

Still, he wasn’t about to question it further. They’d been together for four years, and aside from the occasional yearning for  _ more _ , Kirk was enjoying his time. Even if they didn’t always spend their nights in the same room, Spock had found ways to make up for the things that were troubling. He knew, firsthand, exactly what was troubling. Kirk wasn’t exactly subtle; that wasn’t in his particular repertoire of skills. It would have just been nice if the touching and the kissing were things that could leave the quarters.

He’d be patient. Kirk would be patient for as long as he needed, even if it meant sitting through a very awkward lunch. Enjoying their meals separately, but together. This was fine. He would get so used to it, in fact, that when Spock actually  _ spoke _ , he would jump and nearly lose his utensil to the floor.

Spock looked at Kirk strangely. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your deep thoughts,” he said, and it must have been a joke.

“You didn’t, I wasn’t thinking about anything.”

“That’s not entirely news to me, Jim. Are you finished, or should I wait to speak with you?”

Kirk frowned. “Audience granted. What do you need?”

“I was hoping that we might speak in private, later this evening. It’s not exactly a topic I would choose for our current environment.”

That was something that Spock could have brought up later that evening, when they were both back in Kirk’s quarters and ready to settle in for the night. The fact that he felt the need to ask ahead of time had Kirk pulled into a gut-wrenching spiral. Had he been too obvious in how disjointed he thought their relationship was? Had Spock taken that as an indicator that Kirk would be happier without him? That would have been an entirely wrong assumption, but it certainly might have been a logical conclusion to jump to.

Kirk swallowed and nodded, filling the silence with an awkward laugh. “Sure, there’s no reason that you couldn’t. Something up?”

Spock shifted as if he were uncomfortable. “Indeed, but it’s not something I wish to discuss where others might hear us.”

That didn’t bode well. All Kirk could do was nod, and they went back to enjoying their meals separately, with a little less enjoyment. Kirk hadn’t a single idea of what to think. There were so many topics that Spock could want to bring up, everything from insisting that they separate to something as trivial as ship maintenance. It was never easy to tell what Spock wanted to talk about, and it was even more difficult when there were topics he wanted to speak on about in private that would have been an easy thing to discuss in private.

Spock, on the other hand, who knew exactly what it was he wanted to talk about, was left feeling disjointed. It wasn’t something easy to talk about, not in the fashion that he was hoping to speak about it in. As if it were to be some life altering commitment, and maybe it was. Upon the explanation, Kirk could very well be the one who decided they would be better off separated, and that would put an entirely new strain on Spock. It wasn’t often that he found himself genuinely enjoying something, but he was enjoying this.

It might have been easy for anyone else to reach across the table and brush Kirk’s hand, to let him know something that he clearly needed to know—the way he wore things on his face, like that. That was a luxury that they wouldn’t ever have, and Spock could only hope that this would make that struggle worth it, especially if it might continue.

No amount of hoping and wishing made the rest of the day any easier, and it soon turned into skating around each other in silent hopes of not impressing more unwanted  _ things.  _ It wasn’t as if the company was unwanted, it was just the lurking thing behind it. Spock’s secret topic and Kirk’s unrest about the whole ordeal. Each caught up in their own uncertainty about what the day would hold. Yet, still, the day ticked on as it always would, even through the stress and the fog of it all.

Eventually, the day ended. As Kirk would fear, so would their relationship in a matter of moments, but there wasn’t any excuse to stay away from his room, given the time. There wasn’t more for him to do, and he’d even done more than he usually did in a day, trying to put this off as long as possible. It was a foolish thought. If all this turned out to be was a patch of miscommunication, then he could fix that. He would insist that Spock had taken it wrong, and it wasn’t dislike or disinterest in what they had, it was just a selfish want for more. He’d get over it.

He wouldn’t get over it as easily as he’d  _ like _ to get over it. But he would. He’d promise that and start working on it immediately. Even if he failed miserably, it was the small boost of confidence he needed to at least  _ enter _ his own room. Kirk expected that he would have to wait. He expected he knew what the conversation was about. He expected that it would be a quick and easy task. As he would find, he was incorrect about everything.

“I was beginning to think you meant to sleep on the bridge,” Spock said, in lieu of a greeting.

“Evening,” Kirk responded. “I wasn’t going to stay away the whole night; I just had a few things to finish up. This and that, here or there.”

“I’m sure.” Spock took a sip from his glass.

Kirk moved to sit down at the table. It was a small table for two, the type that was usually reserved for private meals and  _ other  _ sorts of things, on occasion. It was always thoroughly wiped down after those  _ other  _ activities, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there to think about. The other. Kirk cleared his throat and wished that he might have thought ahead enough to get himself something to drink.

“What did you want to talk about?” Kirk asked. It seemed best to just rip the bandage off, immediately. Waiting certainly hadn’t been doing them any good.

“Yes, indeed. I wanted to speak to you about something concerning Vulcan biology. Being that my mother was human, I wasn’t ever expected to experience the baser age rights that a full Vulcan would, but it would seem that predictions made about my experiences were not entirely accurate. This matter is strictly about some certain biological needs. While there is no obligation, I still felt it was in your right to know.”

Kirk hummed, suddenly very interested. “What sorts of biological needs? Are we running low on plomeek? I’ll gladly call up Starfleet—”

“No, Jim,” Spock sighed. “I appreciate your concern, but that’s not the case. This is something referred to as pon farr.”

Kirk sat there and just listened. It was all that he could do, with each following sentence somehow more alarming than the last. He listened to Spock’s detailed explanation of what might happen and how things might change, everything from his behavior to  _ their relationship _ . He was already chewing at his bottom lip in worry about what that particular change meant, but he still listened. He listened closely. This was nothing short of a  _ mating frenzy _ , and Kirk wasn’t sure exactly what to think about that.

“That’s something,” he did say, when Spock finished.

“There’s no obligation or pressure,” Spock assured. “I merely believed that you deserved to know. I don’t know exactly when it will happen, only that it will.”

“What happens if I say  _ no? _ ” Kirk asked, a teasing grin on his face. He’d revert to joking. That would make it easier.

“If you were to object, which is certainly you’re right, there is a significant chance that I would die. Otherwise, I believe I would need to visit the Vulcan Academy in attempts at finding a suitable partner for myself. If that were to happen, I don’t believe that our relationship could continue in the capacity that it has.”

The color fled Kirk’s face all at once. “Really? I was worried all day that that’s what you’d tell me, and there it is. I know it’s not always the easiest thing, but I still think we can work this out—”

“Jim, you are deliberately misunderstanding what I’m saying. I would very much like to continue with you, but I would have no other choice but to look somewhere else if you were to refuse to bond.”

“And you said no pressure.”

“There isn’t any. You should always do what is best for yourself, in a situation like this.”

“Okay, but how do you even know this is going to happen?” Kirk asked. “This seems like something that you find out about minutes before it happens.”

“It’s—it’s more of a feeling,” Spock admitted.

Kirk melted into a smile. “You didn’t really think I’d refuse, did you?”

“I had hoped you wouldn’t.”

“Consider this an official acceptance, then,” Kirk replied, a cheeky grin back on his face. He held out his hand, slightly folded where only his index and middle finger were up, pressed close together.

Spock returned the gesture with something that might have even been a smile, letting their fingers touch in a firm press. It always felt like a surge of something soft and meaningful, altogether warm for the length of time they would hold their hands together. Kirk didn’t understand it on an experienced level, not truly. He only knew what Spock had shared, and that was enough for him to be more than happy to do things like this. Besides, he thought it was cute.

It was always a bit of a rush, and maybe Kirk didn’t have to understand it to reap the benefits of it. Behind closed doors, there didn’t seem to be anything that Spock was against doing, not with Kirk. Even if it meant using his hands in such a casual, intimate way. Spock was standing up suddenly, and they’d gone from touching fingers to Spock taking Kirk by the hand to drag him out of his seat. Kirk, as subtly as he was keen to be, let himself fall straight into Spock’s chest.

“It’s sorta like getting married, if you think about it,” Kirk said, grinning.

With his hands around Kirk’s jaw, Spock said: “That is something I would very much like to think of.”

Then, because there were a few human things that Spock found cute in return, he leaned down to press their lips together. Kirk pressed back with his arms around Spock’s neck with enough force that Spock even stumbled back. Just as the goal had been, and Kirk didn’t stop pushing until they had hit the edge of the bed and fallen backwards. They continued their kiss, Kirk working his hands back through Spock’s hair to make a mess of it, all while he situated himself properly in Spock’s lap.

Spock had worked his hands down Kirk’s sides, where he could grab onto the hem of Kirk’s shirt and start to tug it off him. The over shirt went first, and it was the first time they’d pulled apart from their desperate kiss. Kirk obliged it, if only for the rush Spock seemed to have to get his clothes off of him. It was one of those things Spock wouldn’t admit to outside of closed doors, just how much he liked to roam his hands over Kirk’s skin, to feel all the things that he felt.

“This is your captain speaking,” Kirk said, once the undershirt was finally gone. “I don’t think I can wait for this pon farr thing to start. Consider this a non-negotiable command to take me now.”

Spock scoffed, very near a laugh, and let his hands linger over the open skin of Kirk’s hips. “I believe I can oblige.”

Spock suddenly took a tighter hold on Kirk and sat up, flipping them over in one smooth motion. Once he had Kirk flat into the mattress, Kirk’s legs hoisted around his hips, Spock leaned down to press their foreheads together, their breath mingled when he spoke.

“I think, perhaps, I may be the captain of this ship, however.”

Kirk gulped, but he wasn’t about to argue with that, not when Spock was grinding into his hips like that. It was going to be a long night and an even longer wait. It was certainly going to be a wait worth it, through every obnoxious second of idle hand touches and glances, to the moments where Spock would take hold of him from behind and whisper that  _ word _ into his ear.

_ T’hy’la. _

As it were, there were only three days remaining until Spock would officially delve into pon farr. It was something that Kirk had been not so subtly looking forward to. It couldn’t have ever been a countdown, given that Spock hadn’t really an idea when it would happen, but a count up was just as good as the former. Even if it was slightly bleaker, because it was just a way to count how many days they’d waited. And there were still, technically, three more days to wait.

Most of the recent days, Kirk had been able to fill them well enough with planning for the end of these new three days. Spock had said that, from his research on the subject, the fever of it should last for about a week. That was a week that the Enterprise would be without her captain and first officer. Kirk needed to make sure that things were squared away and that everyone had a perfect excuse for why he and Spock were about to disappear. It wasn’t something they needed to know—it was too private a situation for that.

Kirk had just finished up meeting with Sulu, some masterfully crafted excuse about why he was going to need a week to confined quarters, with a well-placed cough to really sell the idea. Whether or not Sulu actually  _ believe _ him wasn’t actually his problem, just that they were on the same page. That was the part that was important. The Enterprise had a wonderful crew, but she still needed a captain to run properly, and this captain had something slightly more important to attend to.

Just slightly.

As excited as Kirk could be for the upcoming event, he was still  _ nervous _ . Anyone would be nervous entering into a weeklong mating ritual that ended up sounding a lot more like marriage, worded properly, than it did  _ sex _ . Chalk that up to fear and commitment, then. Kirk was allowed to be nervous and excited, all at the same time. It seemed only natural. As much as he might think otherwise, Spock wasn’t exactly helping with the issue, either.

Spock was waiting just outside the room when Kirk and Sulu parted ways. It wasn’t as if he had nothing to do. There were plenty of tasks that Spock needed to attend to, especially if they were about to take an unprompted week vacation. And yet, there he was, waiting against the wall with his arms crossed and a frown, deeper than usual, on his face. He’d really just been standing there, waiting for Kirk to come back. On any other day, that might have been a bit sweet, but with  _ their event _ right around the corner, Kirk found himself a bit worried.

It worried him even more when the first thing Spock did was take his hand, right there in the middle of the hallway. With the way that he smoothed his thumb over Kirk’s knuckles, he must have found whatever it was he looking for, but it did nothing to calm him. Even if his frown looked a little less intense, there was still something creasing his brow when he looked at Kirk. Like  _ he _ was worried too. Spock was worried. Spock wasn’t worried  _ often _ . In the times that he was, he never wore it so readily on his face.

“Everything alright there?” Kirk asked, a bit unsure of himself.

“Yes,” Spock replied, clearing his throat and pulling his hand back. “Everything is just fine.” As if he meant to say there was no reason to suspect otherwise, but Kirk wasn’t so easily fooled.

There was, however, no use in arguing with a Vulcan who had no intentions of telling what was on his mind. For as far as he’d come, feelings still didn’t exactly come easy to Spock. He was working through it in the best way that he could, which was slowly. Figuring out that emotions weren’t something he could logic his way through was the first step, and they were still on that first step. Plenty of times had passed where Spock had simply wished that Kirk could touch him and understand, but things weren’t that simple. As they were, talking was the next step.

Instead of talking, Spock just trailed along behind Kirk on the way down to the bridge. Again, it wasn’t an abnormal thing to be doing, it was just that there were other things Spock probably needed to be doing. If he wanted to spend his remaining hours following Kirk around, then so be it. That’s what he would do, and Kirk wouldn’t really know what to say about it. He didn’t  _ hate _ it. It just left him feeling worried. It wasn’t something Spock normally did, and while Kirk expected a  _ few _ changes when the arrival of pon farr, he didn’t expect things to be so drastic.

Drastic might have been a drastic term, all in itself. After all, wanting idle hand touches and the occasional walk together was Kirk’s thing. It was something that  _ he’d _ wanted. He just hadn’t expected it to be accompanied with so much worry, on his own part. Like it meant something was wrong, not that it meant something was good or changing.

Kirk found out exactly what it meant not ten minutes later. Spock had been hovering since they arrived, not close enough to really talk to, but close enough that Kirk was certainly feeling  _ watched.  _ That  _ watched  _ feeling turned quickly into something else, something else that didn’t have such a perfect name. All he’d done was look at something. McCoy had brought up a list of supplies that the medical bay was running short on, that should be restocked with all haste.

That seemed like such a normal thing to do, to check off on things to be resupplied. It was one of the more mundane things that Kirk did in his time, though he always tried to do it diligently. Then, at his approval, McCoy had put a hand on his shoulder in thanks. Spock, who’d reasonably been too far away to do anything, was suddenly  _ right _ there, slapping McCoy’s hand away from Kirk with such a force that it echoed. It was like the entire bridge froze in response to what they’d just watched.

It was true that Spock wasn’t exactly the nicest person on board the Enterprise, but that didn’t make him  _ violent _ . He wasn’t disliked or feared; rather, he was an integral part of the crew. This was unexpected and something that Kirk would have been much happier if no one had seen happen.  _ Especially _ not when it continued, when Spock seemed to have ever attention of continuing this. Not in his aggression against McCoy, but in the source of that aggression.

Spock grabbed Kirk by the wrist and spun him. If Kirk hadn’t had his free hand up to stop the incoming collision, they would have been kissing on the bridge, and Kirk hesitated to call it kissing with the growing  _ something  _ he could see on Spock’s face. Aggression wasn’t quite the right word. Passion didn’t feel right, either.

“Can we talk?” Kirk asked, though it was very much not a question. “ _ Privately _ , Commander Spock?”

With the spat professionalism, Spock dropped his hold, immediately. Professional was important, and somewhere, Spock knew that. Somewhere, Spock knew that grabbing Kirk in the middle of the bridge and trying to kiss him was the opposite of professional, and not how they should be presenting themselves.

“Of course,  _ Captain _ ,” Spock responded, perhaps with more malice than intended.

With a wave of his hand, Kirk begged that those on the bridge all return to their duties. He walked out of the bridge, with Spock in close tow, and they made way towards the only real place they could have this private of a talk—Kirk’s quarters. The brief journey between there and the bridge was long, arduous, and uncomfortably silent, for the mere minutes that it took. It was just more time to stew on about what had happened, and just what Kirk was going to do about it.  _ That _ wasn’t how he expected some public affection to look.

Once they arrived inside of Kirk’s quarters, Kirk ensured that the door was locked. He might have bolted it manually, if he’d had the option, just to  _ ensure _ no one was going to hear this. They’d already gone to such lengths to keep the reality of what was happening a secret; if people knew about pon farr on their own time, that wasn’t an issue. The issue was knowing that Spock was about to go through it and that he’d asked Kirk to share it with him.

Nobody was even supposed to know that they were a  _ thing _ . As far as Spock was concerned, they were discreetly hidden behind closed doors. Kirk wasn’t exactly good at keeping secrets, though, and there were a  _ few  _ people who knew. Mostly the entire crew. Spock’s father knew, but that wasn’t technically Kirk’s fault. A few others, here or there. More people knew than should have, was the truth of it. Spock didn’t know that, and that’s how Kirk wanted to keep it. They  _ really _ couldn’t know about pon farr. Except the people who did. But that was it.

“What was that?” Kirk asked, finally.

“What was what?” Spock asked. He was nervously pacing about the room, his hands wrung out in front of him.

“You  _ hit _ Bones,” Kirk scoffed. “Not to mention the immediate attempt to make out. I mean, thanks, but not the right place for it. We can’t act like that on the bridge.”

“I am unsure of what caused me to react like that. I believe I found it uncomfortable to witness Doctor McCoy touch you. A part of me was overcome with an instinct that I am ill-equipped to handle. I had to ensure that he knew you are mine, Jim.”

Kirk just stared at Spock, rather dully. “Any other day, that’d be hot to hear. But we can’t act like that on the bridge, you know that.”

“I can’t explain it,” Spock said. He  _ rushed _ across the room, and once he’d reached Kirk, he had his hands on Kirk’s hips, pulling him close. Kirk didn’t resist this touch, as he had on the bridge, and that seemed to calm whatever it was boiling up in Spock’s chest. This  _ instinct _ , he called it.

“I’ll blame it on the thing and call it a day, alright?” Kirk offered a sideways grin. “Just not on the bridge, that’s all I’m saying.”

“I do apologize,  _ t’hy’la.  _ Perhaps, if we were to spend more time together during the remaining time, it might ease this strange instinct of mine.”

“Yeah, yeah. We can do breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You can keep following me around like a lost puppy dog, if you need to. And,” Kirk said with a very pointed click of his tongue, “you can stay here tonight.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? After what I did, just now—”

“Oh, it’s very wise. If you need a little extra reminder that I  _ am _ yours,” Kirk chuckled to himself, “you know I’m always happy to give it. You just have to ask.”

Spock took a sudden hold on Kirk’s jaw, with both of his hands around his face and his thumbs pressed into his chin. “I don’t have to ask,” Spock said, his voice suddenly dark. “You should give it freely, t’hy’la.”

“Whatever you want,” Kirk promised.

This was also new, and Kirk was certainly excited to see where it would lead him. If Spock wanted to get a little demanding, then Kirk was going to look forward to whatever it was he would demand. He might even oblige those things, if he felt so inclined. It would just depend on  _ how _ Spock asked, Kirk thought. If he wanted to ask like this, there wasn’t anything Kirk would deny him.

In the following morning, Kirk did exactly as he promised. After they’d woken and dressed, an appropriate amount of touching involved, they met for breakfast. They did try to eat together when they could, where they could. Sometimes, it was fun to try out other planets’ foods and cultures just for a taste of something off the ship. That wasn’t always an option, so meeting in the mess hall was a good second choice. First choice. Only choice, depending on the day.

This was going to prove quickly to be an interesting day, after the first generic round of a classic bacon and eggs breakfast Kirk had ordered. Spock had hardly touched his own meal in favor for watching Kirk eat. That was something new and different. Spock certainly was one for observing, but never quite so closely, and never  _ eating _ . Eating was one of those things that didn’t seem to differ much between the people they’d come in contact with, so there wasn’t any real reason Kirk could fathom for Spock to be staring at him like that.

“Would you perhaps like another plate?” Spock asked. “I should even go and retrieve it for you.”

Kirk blinked. It wasn’t often that he treated himself to an extra meal, not with Bones lording over his diet the way that he did. Kirk certainly thought he deserved to splurge, given the effort he put into his work. Maybe once wouldn’t hurt him, so he accepted Spock’s offer with a hesitant nod, too busy staring to really voice anything. He was more than happy to eat a bit more; he just hadn’t expected Spock to be the one to suggest it. As long as it resulted in a few extra strips of bacon—it didn’t really matter, then.

By the third plate, Kirk was starting to question what was going on, even if he was  _ enjoying _ his third breakfast. Spock had barely gotten through his first plate and seemed to have no interest in partaking in a second one. This wasn’t something like a special treat of a meal, at least, not in the way that Kirk was thinking about a special treat of a meal. That usually involved gorging a bit extra, where one might have to undo their pants to feel comfortable for a moment. Spock’s treat was just getting to watch—and Kirk didn’t know that, exactly.

“Are you not hungry?” Kirk finally asked.

“I’m quite alright,” came Spock’s rather vague reply.

“Right. Well, is there a reason you haven’t eaten anything?”

“I believe this is what you would refer to as  _ enjoyment _ . I’m finding it quite satisfying to watch you, Jim.”

Kirk didn’t really have a response to that.

“Would you care for another plate?”

“I think I’ll be alright, actually.”

“You should have another,” Spock insisted. “You need to conserve your strength, and there isn’t much time to do it.”

“Oh,” Kirk hummed, suddenly intrigued. “Is that what this is about?”

“What do you mean?”

“You told me there’d be some changes, but some of these are just downright funny. All worried that I won’t be able to handle a few days in bed, are you?”

Spock frowned. “I certainly wouldn’t phrase it like that, no. It’s merely best that you are to keep up your energy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kirk laughed. “I’m sure I can keep up with you, Mr. Lethargic. You can just admit to yourself that you like it, you know. There doesn’t have to be some deeper, logical meaning behind it,” which he said in a robotic tone of voice. Spock didn’t look too impressed.

“Perhaps you should have another plate,” Spock offered, instead. It was much easier than admitting he  _ was  _ enjoying watching Kirk eat.

“I think I’m full,” Kirk replied. “But,” he said, a certain type of smile on his face as he stood to clean up, “if you’d like to carry that on somewhere else, perhaps,  _ during _ our little event. Certainly, wouldn’t want me to lose strength halfway through.”

_ That _ was something for Spock to think about, and Kirk left him there on his own to finish his own meal, if he chose to. In the meantime, Kirk would go off about his own things. They’d meet again for lunch, when time allowed, and they’d likely have the same conversation. Kirk was having more fun with it than he should be, as it was obviously a serious matter to Spock, but the opportunity was right there. He’d have plenty of time to think more about it until Spock inevitably followed after him.

Before he made his way out of the mess hall, however, McCoy stopped him. This sudden pulling of Kirk off to the side didn’t go unnoticed, but Spock chose to stay where he was and just  _ watch _ . A sort of festering thing. Kirk’s friendship with McCoy was of no secret, and usually, Spock didn’t mind it. Truly, he didn’t. He and McCoy, conversely, were not entirely friends. It was something that Kirk had described, in prideful glee of how funny he was, a friendly rivalry. It was a content sort of thing, and it wouldn’t be for much longer.

“I hope you don’t mind me prying,” McCoy started, “but after that little outburst yesterday—”

“Taken care of,” Kirk insisted, his hands up. “No reason to worry.”

McCoy shrugged. “I’m a doctor, Jim, it’s my job to worry.”

“We’ll get past this, it’s just a little bump in the road. You remember when I told you about that Vulcan sex thing?”

“Unfortunately,” McCoy droned.

Kirk glared at him. “Anyway, it’s probably just that. Weird hormonal changes, or whatever it is for Vulcans. I’d chalk some of it up to nervousness, too.”

“And are you?” McCoy asked. “Nervous?”

“And here I thought you didn’t want to know,” Kirk played. “I am though, yes. Figure I’ll just go with the flow. So far, everything is fine.”

“I hope it stays fine. I’d rather not find you in the medical bay— _ again. _ ”

“Spock has never sent me to the medical bay,” Kirk argued. “Well, unless you meant that one time I asked him to go into a training session, but that was my fault. I got distracted—”

“And somehow that left you with a concussion. I remember it.”

That was as far as the conversation got before there were suddenly hands on Kirk’s shoulder. McCoy reacted first, his face lighting up in surprise and concern, all at once. Kirk had the thought process of those were Spock’s  _ hands _ just casually on his shoulders, which wasn’t something that happened as frequently as one might believe, even if it were possible for Vulcans to touch idly. Spock didn’t touch idly, and this was feeling less idle with every increasing bit of pressure.

“Might we talk?” it was Spock’s turn to ask.

“Sure thing,” Kirk replied, a cheeky smile. “I was just going to finish up—”

“ _ Now.” _

Alright then. Kirk waved himself off with a gentle nod of apology—McCoy was most likely not enjoying any of this, and yet, he’d had a front row seat to watch it. His seat was revoked once Spock had finally pulled Kirk off, and back towards Kirk’s quarters they went. They hadn’t made it longer than a few hours. Kirk was beginning to wonder how they were going to make it the remainder the day and  _ another _ day, on top of that. If they managed it, he’d be surprised, and maybe not quite as excited as he should be.

Kirk may or may not have  _ also _ wanted this to just start. It was one thing to think about it when it was just a strange and abstract idea, but now that it was  _ here _ , the thoughts were bordering on obsession. It was all the two of them could think about, and on Kirk’s part, he should have had better control. Spock couldn’t help it—it was a biological  _ urge  _ to think about it. Kirk had no such excuse, except the bit about being nothing more than a human. He couldn’t  _ help _ himself.

Once they were back inside of his quarters, there was no  _ reason _ to need to help himself. This new side of Spock was incredibly arousing. This possessive sort of dominant side. If he was going to act like that, he couldn’t expect Kirk to keep his hands to himself in the privacy of this room. The only thing that  _ did _ keep his hands to himself was the strange look on Spock’s face.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he said with such an urgency that it sounded like he  _ truly _ thought he was ill.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve always said you were quite pleased with our current arrangement, and therefore, there should be no reason for me to act so basely. However, I saw you being so  _ friendly _ McCoy, and I believe I’ve reacted poorly.”

Kirk shrugged. “Nothing that can’t be fixed. There’s nothing  _ wrong _ , you know. It’s kinda hot, actually.”

“This is serious, Jim. I don’t want to do anything that could jeopardize our commitment to each other, but I can’t seem to help myself. It’s distasteful, it’s  _ base _ —”

“It’s entirely normal,” Kirk assured. He took Spock’s hands and pulled them up to rest gently on his neck. “What can I do to reassure you that you have nothing to worry about?”

The haste in which Spock replied should have been alarming, but maybe he’d gotten just what he wanted, for Kirk to be the one to suggest something.

“I have been reading more about the way humans do things, and I have made some very interesting discoveries. Logically, I know there’s no reason to distrust you, or to think that you might seek out another mate. However—”

“Yeah, the biology’s not so logical. I get it.”

“Right,” Spock nearly smiled. “There is this device I’ve recently been able to acquire that I was hoping you might, well, wear.”

“Wear.”

Spock nodded and, after the gentle rub of his thumbs against Kirk’s neck, departed off to rummage through one of the storage compartments. Kirk had given him one for the nights they spent in the same room, as it seemed only fair. He just hadn’t expected Spock to hide whatever this was  _ in his room _ . It was fine, realistically speaking. Just a surprise. Then, an even bigger surprise when Spock pulled it out.

Now, Kirk wasn’t a stranger to sex and the things that went on during sex. He’d seen videos, experienced some of it himself. However, nothing overly intense had ever broken into the bedroom with Spock around. It had been interesting enough with just the two of them, so what else did they need? Only, Spock was holding a  _ chastity belt _ , of all things.

“I have read that these devices—”

“I know what they do,” Kirk admitted. “If it’ll help,” he conceded.

“I believe it will.”

It was a sleek little thing, complete with its very own set of keys. After what was too long and too arduous a process to get it on, that pair of keys went straight into Spock’s pocket. That was the end of that, then, and Kirk wouldn’t even be able to go to the  _ bathroom _ , the way that this was set up, without asking first. That’s just how Spock seemed to want it, and if it was going to  _ help _ , well. Kirk was fine. He’d be fine.

Kirk spent the rest of the day in that chastity belt, and it meant that he couldn’t stray too far from Spock, just  _ in case _ something happened. He thought that might have been the end of it, but where Spock was at least kind enough to let him sleep without it, it’d been right back on in the morning. The keys went back into Spock’s pocket. Kirk could have sworn he even saw Spock  _ smirk _ . Give it long enough, he must have thought, and Kirk would be on his knees begging.

The more Spock thought about it, the more that’s exactly what he wanted. In hours, and counting, that’s exactly what he would get. He wouldn’t even have to ask—and there was a good chance he wouldn’t even be able to. Something that he’d forgotten to talk about. Spock didn’t forget things, but he had certainly neglected to talk about that aspect. It was one of the more frightening aspects, and Kirk would figure it out soon enough.

When Kirk woke up, it was with the sudden yank at his hips. Spock was hovering over him in a ravished sort of panic with his face green in flush, his hands working quickly as they could to get the belt off of Kirk. His pants were already on the floor. Spock must have had more motor control when that had happened, but he’d resorted to attempting to break the belt off instead of using the keys, which were lying uselessly in the messed sheets. Kirk reached out to grab them, but that caught Spock’s attention in the most feral growl Kirk had ever heard him make.

“Let me—” Kirk tried, but then under the bare weight of Spock’s grip, the belt broke. “Fuck,” Kirk relented.

Spock did the rest with his hands, until Kirk was naked from the waist down. Then, Spock slid up his body, keeping his hands as close to skin as he could as he moved up, straddling over Kirk’s hips. He leaned down, his hands suddenly, instead, on Kirk’s face, where he could press his fingers and rest their foreheads together. There was a sudden intake of breath, and Kirk let his eyes close.

The sudden  _ rush _ of everything overtook him, and it breathed through Spock all the same. A jolt and pull and tug in every direction where they stopped being two people, close enough to touch, and were just one  _ feeling _ bouncing back between them. Right underneath the familiar comfort and warm  _ love _ was a very pressing urge to  _ claim _ , mingled up in something growing to  _ be _ claimed. Mingling, mixing, joining up until it shattered all at once when Spock pulled his touch away. God, Kirk nearly whimpered at the loss of it.

When Spock pulled back entirely, it was to get his hands underneath Kirk’s shirt. Once that was off and tossed to some arbitrary point in the room, Spock turned on himself with far less grace and passion. He meant to tear his clothes right off himself, but Kirk reached for him, a gentle touch over his hands. That seemed to be all it took to calm him, though calm was a relative word in the way that he was already panting, trembling with whatever need it was that had only briefly washed over Kirk.

Kirk helped Spock out of his shirt before pulling him back down to the bed. In one rush of movement, Kirk had Spock flat on the bed, and the immediate response wasn’t entirely  _ good _ . Spock struggled against the sudden move, and it was almost funny. Kirk just shushed him for a moment before slipping down and hooking his fingers into the waistband of Spock’s pants.

“Can’t do anything with these still on,” he said, bowing his head down as he pulled.

Spock eyed him curiously but seemed content for the moment. Quelled, maybe, in Kirk’s sudden show of  _ submission _ . That’s what he wanted, after all, the sight of Kirk on his knees. Kirk was careful, but quick, and was soon tossing Spock’s pants off the side of the bed. They weren’t going to need them, not for the rest of the week, if Spock’s calculations had been anything to believe. A whole week to themselves, wrapped up in each other. But first, as it always was, the important bits.

Kirk smoothed his hands over Spock’s pelvis and leaned down between his thighs, licking over the slit that was there. The first time they’d ever slept together, Kirk had been a bit alarmed. It wasn’t that it disgusted him, it just wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Now, nearly six years together, Kirk didn’t have second thoughts about it. He pressed his tongue over the slit, pushing inside of it as far as he could go—it wasn’t far, but the feeling had Spock’s hips jolting up to feel more of it.

Kirk spread open the slit when he pulled away. This was always his favorite part,  _ watching _ how aroused Spock was. When he wasn’t, his cock was tucked away inside of him. It made groping much less more fun than it otherwise should have been, but then there was this: watching his cockhead push out first. Kirk always liked to help it along, spreading Spock’s slit open with his fingers and licking around the opening. Spock was groaning with every press of Kirk’s tongue, and that just egged him on further.

He pressed his mouth over Spock’s slit, then. The farther his cock pressed out, the deeper Kirk took it into his mouth. He sucked over just the head first, licking over the thick shaft as it revealed itself. It used to be a challenge to take Spock’s cock all the way, but Kirk sunk down over each revealing inch with ease, now. The weight of it in his throat had him moaning in response, and the vibration sent a sudden rush of pleasure right through Spock. He jolted, his hands through Kirk’s hair to hold his head in place.

Kirk nearly choked, but Spock didn’t let him up. He rolled his hips, pushing his cock deeper into Kirk’s throat, and Kirk swallowed around it. He ran his fingers over the spread lips of Spock’s slit, rubbing just the slightest bit of prick that he couldn’t fit. Spock moved his hips, fucking into Kirk’s throat with earnest as he chased after his orgasm. Kirk’s mouth was warm and wet and open; Spock couldn’t think any farther than a wet and open hole and the pleasure that it would bring him.

He went from holding Kirk’s head in place to using his hold in Kirk’s hair to make him move his head, bobbing down the length of his cock to meet every one of Spock’s own thrusts. Until Kirk was gagging, drooling around the weight in his mouth. His lips were stretched wide and red, already, from the force of it. Spock didn’t stop until he felt that familiar burning inside of him, cresting all at once with the burst of his orgasm. He came in long spurts down Kirk’s throat, and his hips kept moving with it.

Spock didn’t still until his orgasm had finished, and by then, Kirk had swallowed almost everything that had been pumped down his throat. There was just the slightest bit of spend that dripped from the corner of his lips, when Spock finally let him off. Spock stared at him, following the drop. In the following second, he grabbed Kirk by the arm and pulled him down. It was a long moment of manhandling, pushing and forcing, until Kirk was on his knees with his face down in the pillows.

At the feeling of Spock’s hands over his ass, grabbing at his cheeks and pulling apart, Kirk fumbled a bit. He  _ knew _ Spock was going to lose control—that was the entire backwards point of it. But he wouldn’t lose  _ that _ much control, would he? That he would just intend to push forward, even if it meant  _ hurting _ Kirk?

“Spock—Spock, wait,” Kirk gasped. He could feel the slick head of Spock’s cock between his cheeks. He almost didn’t expect Spock to stop, but he did. He hadn’t lost control  _ entirely _ , just most of the way. He still stopped when Kirk told him to, and that sent a wild rush of warmth through him. “ _ Please _ ,” Kirk begged. “I want to be ready for you.”

Spock  _ growled _ , then. Where Kirk might have expected the incessant press of fingers, unfortunately not wet, he got the sudden press of  _ tongue _ right through his cleft where Spock licked a wide stripe over him. Kirk groaned in response, fisting his hands into the sheets to keep himself grounded. Spock didn’t do this often, but when he did, it was always  _ something _ —this time, it was going to be  _ everything. _ Spock had him spread open on the pads of his thumbs, working his tongue up over his taint, over his hole.

Kirk shivered with every swipe of Spock’s tongue. Then it was just a concentrated press right over his hole, where Spock’s lips pressed into him. Spock moved with earnest, then, sucking over Kirk’s hole as he pressed his tongue inside. Kirk opened right up for him, both of the moaning at the feeling of it. Kirk pushed his hips back, trying to get more of whatever Spock had to offer him. That tongue, as deep as it could go, working inside of him with as much patience as Spock could seem to muster.

Spock worked his tongue, fucking it into Kirk with earnest while his thumb worked up and down the length of Kirk’s perineum. Kirk’s entire body trembled with every press of Spock’s finger, like he was somehow hitting everything inside him. He’d already been hard, but at this point, his cock was aching for release and dripping a mess down beneath him. Spock didn’t have a mind for it, thought, Kirk’s cock. He only cared about making sure Kirk was open and wet for him.

When there was spit dripping down from Kirk’s hole, Spock pulled just far enough away that he could work his finger into Kirk, instead. Kirk’s jaw dropped open immediately, the  _ pressure _ —Spock’s finger inside of him, Spock’s thumb still rubbing his perineum. He couldn’t even moan, he was too overwhelmed with it. Then, Spock’s tongue was back, wedging in right alongside his finger. When his tongue pulled back, he licked around Kirk’s rim and sucked on what skin he could reach.

“Spock,” Kirk gasped. “ _ Hurry _ up—”

Spock still had a free hand, which he used to slap Kirk’s ass, right where it met the back of his thigh. That shut Kirk up quickly, where then he bit down into his bottom lip and pressed his hips back into Spock’s mouth. Spock hummed in response, slipping another finger inside of him. The slide of his finger was easy, the excessive amount of spit inside of him, now. He wasn’t sure it was going to be  _ enough _ , but he was too wrapped up in the feeling of Spock’s fingers working inside of him like that to really care.

Kirk had enough time to idly wonder if that thing Spock always did with touching worked like this too, but then Spock was working a third finger into him, sucking around his stretched rim. Kirk was nothing short of a trembling mess, already; he had no idea how the rest of this was going to go if  _ fingers _ were going to leave him gasping for more, like he was already on the verge of finishing.

Then, it was all gone in a flash. Spock had pulled away, his tongue and his fingers, to press his cock between Kirk’s cheeks instead. Kirk hadn’t even a moment to breathe before Spock was pushing into him, a sudden and eager thrust that had Spock buried inside of him. The stretch, the  _ fullness _ —oh, Kirk had forgotten how much he loved the feeling of being stuffed full like this. Spock’s cock was bigger than any human’s he’d ever seen, and the weight of it inside him shot any thought he might have had.

Spock leaned over him, pressing him down into the mattress and  _ growling. _ His thrusts were hard, brutal even. Kirk’s first reaction was to try and move  _ away _ , like a subtle thing to say maybe  _ too _ hard, too fast. Spock just responded with another growl and his hand suddenly around Kirk’s neck. Not hard enough to hurt, not hard enough to take his air from him, but enough to remind Kirk that he wasn’t in charge. He was there to present himself and take whatever Spock had to give him. And oh, what a good job he’d do  _ taking it _ .

Every thrust jerked Kirk forward, jolting his entire body with the force of it, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. There was nothing left but the sound of their skin slapping together, the tight hold Spock had around his neck, Spock’s other hand scraping down his back to hold tight at his hip. Kirk rocked back to meet Spock’s thrusts without help, but having that extra incentive just lit a fire in him. Spock had completely lost control of himself, and he was using that to mark and claim Kirk in every way possible.

When he had both hands on Kirk’s hips, somehow his pace increased. There were sure to be bruises, but Kirk found himself not thinking about that, and thinking instead about how Spock had leaned over him where his chest nearly touched Kirk’s back. He kissed over Kirk’s neck, licking what he could reach until his  _ teeth _ were there, biting down right at the junction of Kirk’s neck and jaw. Kirk cried out, his cock jerking from the sudden rush of pleasure.

Spock didn’t stop at the skin of his neck, either. He continued kissing and biting where he could, clamping down and sucking purple marks wherever he could reach. His bites trailed down Kirk’s spine, leaving a long speckling of marks in his wake, until he’d moved far enough down that he couldn’t bend enough to mark. Then, he wrapped an arm around Kirk’s chest and pulled him back, holding Kirk up on his knees while he pounded into him, somehow faster and more precise.

Every brush of his cockhead was right over Kirk’s prostate, and now Spock seemed to have a mind for the rest of him. Where he had a hold across his chest, he could play his fingers over Kirk’s left nipple, squeezing it and pulling at it. His other hand ghosted just the tease of a touch over Kirk’s cock. All it did was encourage Kirk to jerk his hips, rolling them forward, and by consequence, back to meet each thrust Spock delivered. Spock didn’t lay a hand on his cock, and instead spread his fingers out over Kirk’s pelvis as just another way to control what he could do.

Then, there was Spock’s  _ growl _ , right in Kirk’s ear where it sent a shiver straight down his spine. Spock’s hand went from his chest to his neck, where his fingertips ghosted right over Kirk’s pulse before holding down. Kirk gasped out, his hips stuttering now on every thrust. He was going to finish, like this, without having been touched. He was going to come on Spock’s cock, from nothing more but the stretch of it, the weight of it inside of him, pounding into him with a somehow ever-increasing force.

Kirk’s moans were more like stuttered gasps. Somehow, he was more enthralled by the touch around his neck than he was anything else. He wished he could feel whatever it was Spock was feeling that had  _ him _ so excited, so desperate to keep going. He was panting right in Kirk’s ear, his thrusts heavy against his backside. Every passing second, he seemed more and more desperate for  _ something _ ; as Kirk’s pleasure grew, mounted as it would, Spock seemed to get more fierce, furious.

“S-Spock—!” Kirk cried out.

There it was, an orgasm that would have had Kirk screaming if Spock hadn’t slapped his hand over his mouth, growling something near unintelligible. He could make Kirk scream loud enough for the whole ship to hear him, and he still wouldn’t  _ let _ them hear. Kirk was  _ his _ . Kirk belonged to him, and that meant everything Kirk did belonged to him. His screams, his pleasure, his  _ everything _ .

Spock continued to fuck him right through his orgasm before pushing him back down into the bed, a hand on the back of his head to keep his face in the pillows. Kirk moaned through every thrust, suddenly over-sensitive. Spock didn’t seem to have any intention of  _ stopping _ , though. In fact, he seemed only more incessant, more desperate, fucking into Kirk. Splitting him open on every thrust. Kirk had all but gone limp beneath him, and still, he was moaning, gasping out in that same desperation Spock was feeling. How he could feel it, that wasn’t quite as important.

When Spock finally came, it was a moment all in itself where he cried out with one final, hard slap of his hips forward. He folded over Kirk’s back with the force of it, panting and trying to find purchase in the sheets. Every second that passed, Kirk could feel more of Spock’s spend filling him up. It was heavy and copious, and the feeling of it just made him want more. Kirk felt as if  _ he _ was about to lose control, any moment, but then Spock was pulling out of him.

When Spock collapsed down to the bed, Kirk pushed himself up that he could lay on Spock’s chest. He had his leg thrown over for good measure, for as much skin contact as they could have. Then, he folded their hands together with whatever last bit of strength he still seemed to have. Already, he could feel Spock’s cum dripping out of him, and no real amount of fidgeting was going to stop that. So, he figured he’d just find a way to be comfortable, close, and happy.

“You’re looking a little green,” Kirk said, eyes half-lidded and dazed voice.

Spock looked at him, but still hadn’t quite mustered up something to say. Instead, he was a bit too wrapped up in Kirk’s hand pressed into his, their fingertips and palms together. It was a quiet confirmation that it hadn’t been too much or too hard, that Kirk felt good and satisfied in all the same ways Spock did.

“You still in there? That can’t be all you had.”

“N-no,” Spock managed. “No, I just need a moment to collect myself.”

Kirk gave a pleasant hum and let his eyes close. He could use a moment to collect himself, too. There was a throbbing in his hips that he hadn’t experienced in some time, and he’d be damned if he was going to be able to walk after this. That was precisely how it should be, too.

That break didn’t last for very long. Kirk was jolted back into reality from a daze he wouldn’t have quite called sleep when Spock surged up and flipped them, Kirk’s back down to the mattress. Spock was over top of him, hunched over him with his hands over Kirk’s face and their lips pressed together in a fast and heavy kiss, a clank of teeth. Kirk moaned, arching up into Spock’s desperate, harsh touch. Spock’s hands were all over him, from his temples down to his chest where he kept Kirk flat against the bed.

Spock growled into their kiss, mashing lips together before his tongue was in Kirk’s mouth and tasting along all the ridges, bumps, and crevices. And somehow there was teeth, teeth like Spock was trying to bite Kirk’s lips and tongue him all at once, which had never been quite possible, but the desperation of it had Kirk moaning instead of laughing. Spock’s cock was still hard, on top of everything else, rutting into Kirk’s hip as they moved together.

When Kirk tried to push up, to get his arms around Spock and maybe pull him down closer, Spock’s hands went from his chest to his wrists, where he pinned Kirk down to the bed and pulled away from their kiss. Spock growled, again, and in his eyes was something far baser than Kirk had ever seen there before. He hadn’t gotten much of a chance to look at him, earlier, before Spock had taken to fucking him into the mattress as hard as he could. Now that he could  _ see _ him—Kirk was more than enamored, but his hands were pinned.

“ _ Keep _ them down,” Spock gruffed.

“Oh, so you can talk this time?” Kirk breathed out. It was less amusement and more hiding behind faked amusement, where he wasn’t about to admit—yet—that Spock’s behavior had him a bit out of sorts. A bit nervous, when he’d seen what  _ loss of control _ actually meant, but this was better. Spock was talking, looking at him.

“Should I make it so you can’t?” Spock challenged, and that sent a shiver straight through Kirk’s spine. Whether or not that had anything to do with Spock’s decision, Kirk would never know. All he did know was that Spock actually ripped a strip of fabric from the top sheet and used that as a gag, wrapping it through Kirk’s lips and around his head to tie it securely.

Someone was going to have to explain that.

Spock’s sudden surge to get his mouth on Kirk couldn’t have been explained as anything less than an attack. He had his teeth dragging down over Kirk’s chest, his hands holding tightly at his side to keep him still while he worked. He lavished his tongue over Kirk, his lips, more teeth—biting down on any piece of skin that he could manage and sucking up another pretty, purple mark to match the shapes on Kirk’s neck. Now that Spock could reach  _ everything _ , he wouldn’t leave anything untouched. Even his nails were digging into skin, in his desperation to keep Kirk there.

Kirk, on the other hand, tried as well as he could to keep his hands to himself, his body still, but it was impossible. He could feel the hard press of Spock’s prick against his thigh, and ever new bite or lick just ignited another fire of pleasure. Kirk rolled his body, his hips, trying to find  _ more _ , if he could. Spock lost his patience almost as fast as Kirk could arch into his touch, and he pulled away, that he might grab Kirk by his hips. There were bruises all over his hips, already, along with marks from Spock’s nails.

There would be more marks in the wake of Spock’s hold, where he grabbed Kirk hard enough that he might flip him over to his front—but Kirk wouldn’t budge. Kirk let out a muffled moan through his makeshift gag, staring down at Spock, almost  _ pleading _ . He wanted Spock to fuck him, in whatever fast, possessive way he might have found necessary, but he  _ didn’t _ want his face in the bed each time it happened. He wanted to  _ see _ Spock, but with the gag, there wasn’t any way to say that short of just hoping Spock could read his mind.

Thankfully, there was some level of that, where Spock’s fingers were still pressed so tightly into him. Spock could  _ feel _ , well enough, what Kirk wanted. And there was just enough of him left beneath this new Spock that he cared about what Kirk wanted, so he stopped trying to flip him over, and instead just ran his hands up Kirk’s chest to soothe him. It was a tender, quiet moment where they might have kissed if Kirk wasn’t drooling around a gag.

When it ended, Spock settled himself between Kirk’s thighs for a different approach. He pulled Kirk’s legs up to rest over his shoulders and pressed against him. Kirk was still dripping, still open, but the feeling of Spock splitting him open was all the same where he moaned out from behind the gag, trembling with the sudden  _ fullness _ of it. The wet sounds that filled the room while Spock fucked forward were just reminders of  _ why _ he was so open—that Spock had already used him, filled him up, and fully intended to do it again.

Spock had Kirk bent entirely in half, his knees pressed up by his head. Kirk could feel  _ everything _ like this, when Spock started to move. Every inch of his cock that disappeared inside, that pulled at his walls when he pulled back out—the speed of it, as Spock moved faster, slamming his hips into Kirk where their skin slapped together, and Kirk’s thighs began to ache. Spock held his legs back with his hands hooked right up under his knees, and they were pressed so close together that they  _ could _ have kissed.

Instead, it was just moaning between them, where every slap of Spock’s prick inside of him just took him higher and higher, until it felt like his eyes could roll back into his head and he’d lose himself. He did lose himself, somewhat, where he’d just forgotten to keep his hands to himself. Kirk reached up for Spock, wrapping his arms around Spock’s neck while they rocked together,  _ fucked _ together. Spock’s responding growl had Kirk trembling, moaning.

The position made it hard to work his hips down to meet Spock’s, but damn, if he didn’t try. The closer Spock bent over him, the harder it was, but it didn’t matter. Spock was so  _ deep _ inside of him, splitting him open somehow deeper on every thrust. Kirk was sure he would come again, just from this, and quickly if Spock didn’t stop. Spock didn’t  _ want _ to stop. He’d have Kirk coming dry, if that’s what it took, as many times as it took, until he found his own release—whatever it was he was looking for.

His pace was erratic, hard. Spock grunted through every thrust, the effort of it, keeping his hold on Kirk tight. Still, it was like he was coming back to himself for the moment, in clarity where he didn’t seem to mind that Kirk was touching him so  _ intimately _ , arms around his neck, fingers scraping up his back.

“Look at you,” Spock suddenly gasped,  _ growled _ . “You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?”

Kirk moaned in response, muffled by the gag, and nodded hurriedly. Maybe Spock was projecting, but he wasn’t  _ wrong _ .

“For  _ me _ ,” Spock specified. “You’re desperate for my cock—you’re  _ mine _ ,” he growled. He pulled his hands away from Kirk’s legs to put them around his face, instead.

Kirk could  _ feel _ it, then, Spock’s intense possession. All in the winded up shouts of  _ mine, mine, mine _ —and Kirk believed it. He wanted to assure it. He wanted the gag out of his mouth so he could  _ tell _ Spock that he was right, Kirk was his. He’d  _ always  _ be his.

“I’m the only one who can make you feel like this,” Spock said, growled out in some part possession and some part  _ awe _ , as he felt everything that Kirk did. “Keep you stretched out on my cock until you can’t even sit, can’t even  _ think _ about anything but me—you’re  _ mine.” _

Spock reached out for Kirk’s gag and ripped it right from his mouth. Kirk responded with a moan, letting his jaw drop open as Spock fucked him just right, rubbing over his prostate with every thrust, every fast, pointed thrust like he had more than one goal in mind, all of the sudden. He wanted to see Kirk’s face torn with pleasure, with  _ feeling _ —oh, Spock wanted them both to  _ feel _ something, and watching the way Kirk’s eyes lit up, listening to the way that he cried out when he was hit just right, it was perfect.

“ _ Yours _ ,” Kirk gasped. “Yours, Spock— _ fuck _ , right there, right there—”

“I’m going to make sure everyone  _ knows _ ,” Spock hissed. “I want you swollen with it, so full of me that you’re dripping,  _ gaping _ .”

Kirk gave another hurried nod. “Anything, Spock, anything—please _ , please _ .”

“You’ll finish when I say you can.”

Kirk groaned in response. The first time that Spock had paid a mind to his dick was to wrap his hand around the base and squeeze, so Kirk  _ couldn’t _ come, even if he wanted to. Spock changed his focus back to thrusting, fucking into Kirk so deeply that he lost all sense for thought, for words. His hands fell back to fist into the sheets where he might ground himself.

Spock came before Kirk even had a thought for it, the way Spock was holding him. It didn’t change anything—Spock continued to move his hips, fucking down into Kirk and pumping another load into him. Spock didn’t stop, even after his orgasm died back down, again. He took a new hold on Kirk, grabbing into his hips with both hands. He intended to make good on his promise, where he would fuck Kirk as many times as he needed to see him swollen with spend, satisfied and complacent.

“How much of me can you take?” Spock asked, his voice a low growl.

“All of it,” Kirk gasped. “Anything—” cut off when Spock kissed him, suddenly and furiously, overcome by that sudden rush of  _ need _ . Kirk wanted to please him, and Spock used that to fuel his thrusts.

“Come,” Spock commanded, when he pulled back. He’d whispered not inches away from Kirk’s lips, and he didn’t have to look to know that Kirk had done just that.

Kirk nearly spasmed with the intensity of his orgasm, clenching down around the thick of Spock’s prick. It left him feeling boneless, lifeless, and what a feeling it was. He was helpless beneath Spock, while Spock continued to fuck him with some intense fervor. Where he got the energy from was unfounded, but Kirk didn’t care. Every drag of his cock felt amazing, felt like a fire growing inside of him like his orgasm wasn’t even finished. He’d already made a mess over himself, but the  _ feeling _ of it hadn’t died. It ran like aftershocks through his limbs with every new thrust, every  _ harder _ thrust.

Eventually, Spock had Kirk rolled onto his stomach where he could get himself comfortable, arms folded up under the pillows for a pleasant place to lie. He was tired and getting tired far faster than Spock was. That didn’t mean he was  _ out _ . He wanted this just as much as Spock did, and when Spock had tried to roll him over, he went willingly, that time. Each new placement felt so different than the previous, and Kirk had to admit that this was his favorite.

He was laid out flat, in a blissful sort of state where  _ everything _ felt good, where Spock had all but mounted him from behind and used his hands on Kirk’s back to steady himself. Spock fucked into him with a renewed vigor, each time, and this time it was about chasing his own pleasure—filling Kirk up, just like he’d said. Even the drag of his nails felt good, and Kirk shivered with every new sensation, every thrust, every scratch.

Spock lost himself in the sensation. This time, when he came, he made sure to have his hands on the sides of Kirk’s face so he could feel it too, and the feeling of it rushed over both of them in such a strong  _ something _ that it was almost unheard of. Layer upon layer upon layer of things and feelings and  _ pleasure _ that couldn’t be untangled took through them both, and Kirk found another orgasm with it, where he’d rather thought that he was done.

He was done, and before Spock’s hips had even finished their orgasm induced stutter, Kirk’s eyes had already closed.

When Kirk woke back up, some strange number of hours later, there was an unfamiliar fullness in him. Spock was sitting right beside him, seemingly back to himself, for the moment, so it couldn’t be  _ him _ . The best Kirk could figure was readily confirmed when he shifted and clenched down, unexpectedly: that Spock had been hiding  _ more _ of these human devices in Kirk’s room, and upon Kirk’s falling asleep, had made sure to stuff him with a plug. Which was fine. If Kirk cared, he would say something.

He was more concerned about the food, though. There seemed a veritable buffet sitting beside them, and he wasn’t about to question how it got there. All he knew was that he  _ wanted _ it. He was hungry, more so than he thought he’d be after a long nap. The only problem was that there was a soreness taking over him that had essentially immobilized him. Looking at the food was all he could do. Even wanting to move his limbs, then trying, didn’t seem to be enough to work them.

“You’ve woken,” Spock said, once he finally noticed. He reached down to card his fingers through Kirk’s hair, giving him the best look of a smile that he could manage. Behind it, even Kirk could see that Spock was tired, too.

“Barely,” Kirk replied, then shocked by the sound of his own voice. It was hoarse and scratchy—he must have screamed more than once.

“I had food brought for us. Don’t worry, as I have informed the crew that you’ve fallen with an illness.”

“You sound like yourself, again,” Kirk mused.

“I assure you, it’s only temporary. Would you like something to eat, then? You need your strength.”

Food sounded more than wonderful, even if Kirk had a hard time sitting up so that he  _ could _ eat. He ended up more draped over Spock than he was really sitting, but Spock didn’t seem to mind it. In fact, this close quarters touching thing seemed to be exactly what he did want, what he was looking for. It was the only thing that was helping soothe that burning fire, that burning need, inside of him.

Now that he had some of himself back, Spock could focus on different things. He could focus, primarily, on making sure that Kirk was alright. This was quite the ask of him, and so far, he’d performed valiantly. The rest of their time together, through this, would be something to remember. Maybe even look forward to  _ again _ . In the meantime, Spock needed to focus on the  _ now _ , not the next time. Next time was something to look forward to, but  _ now _ was something that he was a part of.

He made sure to hand over anything that Kirk wanted. Even when what he wanted was the soup, which Spock happily fed to him—and what a strange feeling it was. A feeling. Happiness. Spock was enjoying himself, even down to wiping stray crumbs from Kirk’s lips before feeding him something else from the cart. They had all manner of foods, with enough variety that Spock could have eaten something too, if he wasn’t so concerned with  _ feeding _ Kirk.

It was that base instinct. That was all Spock could figure. This  _ desire _ to see his mate swollen with  _ something _ —whatever was possible. He didn’t want to lose the possibility, so as long as Kirk was willing to eat what he gave him, then Spock was going to feed him. There were soups, meats, vegetables, fruits, breads, and even  _ dessert _ . The real dessert was going to be something far different than the delightful bit of cake they’d been given. It was in the way Spock’s urges seemed to bubble right back up, where his prediction had been entirely correct. Having himself back was only temporary.

Now, he was suddenly consumed with the want to  _ have _ , to take. To possess to own. Anything that he could get. He wanted it. It was swelling back up inside of him like an urge he’d never given into before, as if that wasn’t clearly a lie. He’d indulged himself since the beginning; he was just going to have to find  _ more _ .

Spock grabbed Kirk’s hand and pressed it into his groin, then, where in the downtime his cock had since gone flaccid and tucked itself away. He would have Kirk’s mouth down there, again, but all in good time. First, he would lose himself in the feeling of Kirk’s fingers ghosting over his slit, spreading him open and dipping down into the shallow spaces he could reach. It was so slick, inside like this. When Kirk fixed his fingers just the right way, he could feel the flat head of Spock’s prick, ready to make itself known, again.

Kirk bent his head down of his own accord, flicking his tongue over the bits that he could reach. Spock reacted with a groan, his hips bucking up into Kirk’s mouth. It didn’t take much longer for Spock’s prick to start to push back out, and Kirk was just as attentive as he’d been the first time. He lavished his tongue over each new revealed inch, relishing in the strange texture. He would have that cock down his throat, again, if he could, but Spock was grabbing him by the hair and pulling him back a second later.

“Beg for it,” Spock hissed. Right back to the main event.

“ _ Please _ ,” Kirk breathed. “Fuck me, Spock. Let me ride you—I want your cock inside of me. I want you to fill me—”

Spock cut him off with a growl and pulled Kirk up, off the bed, and into his lap. Kirk fell into his chest and gripped tightly onto Spock’s shoulders. Spock’s arms were around him—Spock was everywhere, just touching him idly until his hands had sunk low enough to grab at his ass and spread his cheeks apart. Kirk gasped out, his jaw dropping open when Spock grabbed the base of the plug and pulled. He tugged, slowly, at the little thing until it had popped free.

Before Kirk could even mourn the sudden loss, Spock had his fingers in its place. He had both of his index fingers worked inside of Kirk,  _ pulling _ him open as he settled Kirk down farther, down over his cock. It didn’t take more than a minute before Kirk was properly seated down, impaled on Spock’s prick. His hips twitched involuntarily, rolling down and grinding over Spock in the sudden need to have  _ more _ . To feel more. To be closer. To be  _ one _ .

“Perfect,” Spock said. “Fuck yourself,  _ t’hy’la.  _ I want to  _ watch _ .”

Kirk worried down on his bottom lip for as long as he could, until Spock was grabbing him by the jaw and opening his mouth for him—feeding him, again, while Kirk rolled his hips. He moved in little circles, first, swallowing what Spock had given him. Then, once he felt daring, Kirk started to move. He picked himself up, on his knees, and started to grind himself down into Spock, bouncing over his cock. The way Spock looked at him, like that, was enough to have Kirk moaning.

There was already a noticeable swell in his stomach, and Spock seemed overly enamored with it. He played his fingers over Kirk’s skin, touching in all the right places. Kirk hadn’t ever known that he could be that sensitive, just at the barest touch of Spock’s hands, and there he was. He had his own hands gripped into Spock’s shoulders, down over his shoulder blades and scratching each time he moved, each time he was  _ overwhelmed _ with pleasure.

He split open for Spock so perfectly, and feeling him so  _ deep,  _ like this, was different altogether. He’d never been left so full of Spock’s spend before, and each thrust seemed to have it all going deeper, adding to the swell of him, if that were somehow even possible. He didn’t want to think about the logistics, just the feeling. Just how good it felt to have all of that inside of him, to have Spock’s hips working up to meet his downward grind. They were moving in tandem.

Spock, suddenly, wrapped his arms around Kirk’s waist and pulled him closer, until their chests were pressed together. Spock could feel the weight of Kirk’s stomach between them, the way that it moved with the rest of him, as he rose and fell down again and again, on Spock’s prick. They were rocking together, and this close, Spock could lean forward to press his forehead into Kirk’s chest. He stayed there for only a moment before focusing his attention on Kirk’s nipple, mouthing over it and flicking it with his tongue.

“Spock—” Kirk gasped. “Spock, I need—oh,  _ fuck _ ,” he broke off, letting his head fall back as Spock managed to hit that spot inside of him.

A jolt of pleasure spun right through Kirk, right up his spine and left him a helpless, moaning mess. He worked his hips down in attempts to get more, more— _ more _ , he was desperate to have more. Spock would give him more, suddenly taking Kirk’s arms and surging up. He pressed Kirk down into the mattress, his hands held down above his head, and  _ fucked _ into him with more energy than he’d had before. He kept one hand ghosted over Kirk’s stomach, where he could feel the bounce of it beneath the force of their movement.

“Look at you,” Spock groaned, “spread out for me, helpless for anything but the feeling of my cock. I’m the only one who can make you feel like this—the only one who can make you feel  _ good _ .”

“Only you,” Kirk agreed. “ _ Fuck _ , please, Spock—harder. Harder—I need you—”

Spock smashed their lips together in a furious, heavy kiss that was more tongue and teeth and spit than it was anything else. Kirk moaned through the whole of it, wrapping his legs around Spock’s hips to pull him closer. They were moving together. Fucking. Spock was panting, groaning into his ear after their kiss broke apart.

There was an urgency that took Spock, reflected in his pace, the things that he said. He wanted Kirk to submit to him, to take everything that he had to give. To moan for it, beg for it—and how Kirk would respond in kind. In turn, he wanted Spock to claim him, to give him everything he could. The more there was, the better that it felt. The more intense Spock seemed to get, with his scratches, his biting, his  _ marking _ . Kirk’s entire body would ache after this—and he didn’t even know how long they’d been at it.

All he knew was that, what Spock asked, he did. When Spock wanted him to eat, he ate. If Spock wanted him on his knees, then Kirk dropped to the floor with his jaw wide open, for whatever it was Spock wanted of him. Spock had shoved his cock straight down Kirk’s throat, and Kirk had moaned around it and sucked, just like he ought to. It was just another way to fill Kirk up, coming down his throat like that. It had been the first time Kirk had come entirely untouched, where he’d shot over the floor from the sheer feeling of Spock’s fingers in his hair on his face and coming down his throat.

When weren’t actively fucking, Spock made sure to keep that little plug stuffed up inside of Kirk. And even then, there were times when things were more idle than that—though, the plug was always there. There were times when Spock regained himself long enough that they would both fall asleep. There were even times when Spock even had the wherewithal to change the sheets. There were even times when Kirk woke up to Spock’s fingers working into his back, digging out kink after kink after kink.

Kirk hadn’t realized how strung up he was until Spock worked him back down, until he was loose and relaxed. Then, there was the feeling of the plug slipping out of him. Spock always took time to gingerly set it off to the side before taking his attention back to Kirk. He ran his fingers between Kirk’s cheeks and scooped up what had dripped out of him already, forcing it back inside with gentle touch. He replaced his fingers with the press of his cockhead, right up against Kirk’s hole.

“Beg for it,” Spock said.

Kirk groaned in response. “Fuck me,” he said, his voice hoarse and wrecked. “ _ Please, _ Spock, fuck me.”

“You can do better.”

Kirk pushed himself up the best that he could, angling his ass back towards Spock so that he could grind into him, present himself. “Take me,” he said. “I want you to fuck me, please. I need your cock inside me!”

Spock growled, and whether or not that had sufficed didn’t seem to matter, because he was pushing himself inside of Kirk in the next second. It was a long, slow, arduous press forward that had Kirk crying out, moaning. Somehow, he still had enough voice left to do that, to gasp and groan when Spock started to fuck him.

This time, for as hard as the thrusts were, they were slow. Spock focused more on just making it  _ feel _ good, than he did  _ taking _ what he needed. The rock of it might have even been enough to lull Kirk back to sleep, if Spock’s prick wasn’t so deep inside of him. For what seemed like forever, they just rocked together, with Spock’s nails dug into Kirk’s hips to keep him there, keep him  _ aware _ .

It was sometime later, maybe the fourth or fifth day, though Kirk hadn’t been able to keep track well enough to really know. All he did know was that he was tired, strung up, wrecked, and worn out. Still, it was Spock’s own labored breathing that woke him up, in that sometime later. Spock didn’t look so good, when Kirk saw him. There was a green flush down to his chest, and his eyes looked hazy and glossed over. Still, when Kirk pushed himself up, Spock saw him and recognized him.

“Hey,” Kirk managed out, “are you alright? What’s—”

“It’s not supposed to,” Spock replied. “We’ve—we’ve been together,” he said, intertwining their fingers. “I shouldn’t be—this,  _ this _ .”

Kirk shushed him, leaning over enough to splay his free hand down the side of Spock’s face, trying to soothe him. “Just breathe, Spock, breathe. What do you need?”

“ _ You _ ,” he gasped. “This—this  _ fever _ could kill me, and I—”

Kirk shushed him, again. “You’re not going to die,” he promised. “You’re going to stay here with me.”

Spock nodded and kept his mouth shut. He watched, in awe, as Kirk slung his leg over Spock’s lap and straddled him. He ground back onto him, his ass into Spock’s groin. Spock reacted quickly, with the new wake of arousal. His cock was awake in seconds, hard and curved against Kirk’s backside. This seemed to be the way to fix it, this new rush that was beginning.

It was the first time that Spock really felt like himself, watching,  _ feeling _ , Kirk sink down onto him. He had the perfect view, lying down where he was, with Kirk on top of him. Kirk, seated in his lap, over his cock, and bracing himself on his chest. It was a sight to behold, and with every roll of Kirk’s hips, Spock could feel that strange haze disappearing. He could lose himself in Kirk, instead, watching the way that he moved.  _ Feeling _ the way that he moved.

Then, something strange happened. Kirk leaned over him, still working his hips from this new angle, and pressed his fingers onto Spock’s face. It was the same configuration he’d always used back on Kirk, the few times they’d ever melded minds. Nothing happened, but they hadn’t expected anything to happen. Kirk just let out a tired laugh from above, smiling in the way that he did.

“I’ve always wanted to do it,” he said. “Always wanted to see if it were possible.”

Spock reached up and pulled Kirk down over him, so that they were laying together, pressed together,  _ moving _ together, still. They kissed, then, in some gentler way than they had since before this all started. Whatever it had been that Kirk just did, which was effectively nothing, still felt like everything. It felt like  _ bonding _ . This time, when Spock did the same back, he pressed their foreheads together while their eyes closed, and the feelings rushed through.

They were still littered in Spock’s newfound possessiveness, in how much he  _ needed _ to know that Kirk was his, would be his, forever. But underneath it was everything that they’d started with, where they merged together too closely to pull one feeling apart from the other. Everything came together into one mess of feeling, of joy, of  _ satisfaction _ . And all Kirk could do was send back that he  _ was _ Spock’s. Forever, if he’d have him.

By the time it was over, it was obvious that it was over. Every single muscle in Kirk’s body was stiff and sore, and Spock was not dead. He was, however, entirely back to normal. Even if he’d been so kind as to accompany Kirk for a shower, he’d done so with all of the great, wondrous facts and reasons that Kirk should have showered before this. Kirk so helpfully reminded Spock that he’d been a bit caught up in the moment, the moment being where Spock hadn’t let him out of bed for even  _ water _ .

Spock wasn’t anywhere where he wanted to admit that things like that had happened, because they were things that could be explained away with facts and reasons. The only reason he’d kept Kirk in bed was because he’d  _ cared _ , especially in those instances when it was getting him food or water. It was, in Spock’s way, taking care of Kirk where he must have known, somewhere, that Kirk was going through much more than Kirk would attest to. They each had their faults, as it were.

Still, the shower had been more than a little fun. There had been a lot of fingers, under the guise of ensuring Kirk was properly cleaned. Not that he wasn’t already experiencing nothing short of a stomachache, but it was still better to prevent something worse from taking place. It hadn’t taken long for Spock to have him pressed up against the wall of the shower, his cock pressed against him instead of fingers. Spock didn’t press forward. He didn’t even attempt to fuck Kirk again; that might have been just too much for him to handle.

Instead, Spock pressed his prick between Kirk’s legs and whispered into his ear that he might hold his legs together—to give Spock a nice, warm hole to fuck. Just one last time, until they inevitably both needed to return to their duties. Kirk would get an extra day or two to rest, as needed, but he would still have to  _ do _ things. They couldn’t afford to hide in the room, any longer, especially with the laundry that needed done. And the cleaning.

Somehow, Spock still managed to find another orgasm against the shower wall, between Kirk’s thighs. Kirk didn’t follow, but his own cock was sore and red from the weeklong use. He didn’t  _ want _ to come again, and that was just fine. There were plenty of things to think about that would keep him calm—like cleaning, like laundry. Like, the fact that when they were back in the room, the first thing Kirk was thinking about was getting something to eat.

Surely, if that kept up, he was going to gain a few pounds on Spock’s strange obsession alone. Whatever worked, he supposed.

They started picking up after themselves, after that. They meaning that, once the bed was stripped down with new sheets, again, Spock did the picking up by himself. Kirk was on the bed, lying out on his side where things didn’t hurt so bad, watching. They were both hardly dressed, but it was at least enough that they could explain it away if someone were to suddenly barge into the room, locked or not. Having an excuse was important, even if more of the crew members knew about them than strictly necessary.

“You have to tell me something,” Kirk said, his voice scratched up, still.

“You really shouldn’t be speaking,” Spock responded. “You should drink the tea you’ve been given and rest, or your vocal cords will take much longer to recover.”

“Only if you tell me something first.”

“What is it?”

“That whole possessive streak you went on: where’d that come from? You’ve never acted like that before.”

Spock shrugged—actually shrugged. “Given the experience we just had, I would be willing to say that it was a reaction produced by the hormones and instincts involved in pon farr. Otherwise, I can’t accurately say.”

Kirk snorted. “That’s a lie.”

“What reason do I have to lie to you, Jim?” Spock frowned. He did, however, sit down on the edge of the bed. Clearly, this was a topic of importance.

“When we did the mind melding, I could  _ feel _ it. All the crazed stuff, not so much, but that possessive thing. That, I could feel. Makes me think it’s just something you’ve been trying to hide.”

“You really need to rest your voice, Jim. You sound awful.”

Kirk rolled his eyes. “See? Topic change. I’m right.”

Spock glared down at him, to which Kirk could only grin wider. He knew he was right. He knew that, somewhere underneath that hard exterior, Spock was just like anyone else in a relationship. He had something. He  _ liked _ that something. And he was afraid of losing that something. The only thing that Kirk could think to do was reach out for him and take his hand, press their fingers together like they’d done so many times before. If Spock didn’t want to believe his words, then he could believe  _ feelings— _ not something that he truly understood, but something that was concrete.

“All I’m saying is,” Kirk continued, when their hands fell away, “I don’t want to have to wait another seven years for  _ that _ Spock to happen.”

“You…enjoyed it, then?” Spock asked, hesitantly.

“More than enjoyed it. If it hadn’t nearly broken every bone in my body, I’d ask for more.”

Spock frowned. “Jim, if you’re truly hurt—”

“I’m joking, joking. I’m fine. I’m sore, but I’m fine.”

Spock breathed freely, then. That would be something to think about. For a while, at least. It would be sometime before Kirk was ready to partake in anything substantial, but if he was telling the truth, that he  _ liked _ what Spock had just put him through, then maybe it wasn’t something that he had to control, so well, after all. Until then, there were duties to attend to, and Kirk needed to focus on  _ resting _ , not partaking in sexual banter. So, Spock did something that he couldn’t ever remember doing before, in the near six years they’d been together.

He leaned over and, after ensuring the fresh sheets were pulled up over Kirk’s shoulder, pressed a kiss into his temple. A goodnight kiss, as the humans did, because Kirk was well on his way back to sleep. Even if he didn’t want to sleep, he needed it, and that was Spock’s cue to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> 𓆏 Froge Bounces 𓆏  
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